"One day, the younger brother went for a walk,
and it was then he met a girl.
A beautiful princess of white."

・ ・ ・

Storm awoke to someone shaking him.

He sat up groggily, blinking. Sunlight streamed in and shone on his face, and he screwed his eyes shut, groaning. "Who is it?" he asked blearily, rubbing away the sleep crusting the corners of his eyes.

There was an amused chuckle, and Storm's vision cleared.

Bayne sat on his bed in front of him, smiling. "Good morning, son," his father greeted, his blue eyes shining in the morning light. Storm faltered.

"Uh, good morning, Father," he said slowly, rather perturbed. Why in the name of the Guardian Spirit was his father in his room?

He glanced at the clock. Eight-thirty.

"... Do you need something?" he asked. Bayne hummed, and patted his shoulder, still smiling.

"We'll be heading out of the Palace later, and look around the kingdom," his father simply stated. Storm took a moment to register his words, then gasped, eyes growing wide.

"We're... going to leave the Palace, and see the kingdom? Later?" he said, voice hushed as he stared at his father, awestruck. Bayne let out a bark of laughter, tousling his hair.

"Of course, son. I understand that it will be your first time outside, so I thought you might want to know earlier and have more time to prepare yourself," the king explained.

A shudder of excitement ran up Storm's spine, and he grinned.

They were going to leave the Palace!

They were going to see the kingdom!

He got out of bed, and raced to the window, gazing out of it. The people of the kingdom were already going about with their daily activities. He saw children playing on the streets. Shop owners proudly advertising their products. Adults gathering together, chatting heartily.

Laughter.

Smiles.

Beautiful happiness.

I'm going to see the world.

He turned back to Bayne. "What time are we leaving?" he breathed out, trying to contain the overwhelming ecstasy attempting to gush out of him. His father seemed rather amused by his reactions.

"We will be leaving at ten-thirty sharp, so you have about—" Bayne glanced at the clock, "—an hour and fifty minutes to get ready."

Storm bit his lip, resisting the urge to grin. He wanted to tackle his father and hug him, but he wrung his fingers together, stopping himself.

That would be rather undignified, jumping on the king.

Bayne must have seen something on his face, because he spread his arms wide invitingly, a humoured smile on his face. "I know you want this," he said, and gestured with his fingers.

Storm leapt into his father's embrace.

"It's so exciting, Father!" he gushed. "I want to see the world! When can we go out of Argon and visit the other kingdoms? Tomorrow? Maybe next week?"

"Calm down young man, it's far too early for you to leave Argon and travel to the other kingdoms," Bayne said sternly, pulling away. He held Storm by the shoulders. "You are still young. Before visiting the other kingdoms, first you need to know your own home. That's why I'm bringing you out, so you can get a vague idea of how the kingdom is like."

Storm's smile fell for a split second, then he brightened again, and nodded in understanding.

So they wouldn't be leaving Argon, but being able to see how the kingdom was like was a good start to seeing the world.

"Will Brother be coming with us?" Storm asked, remembering Xenor. He wondered if his father had already notified him of the outing, and if he was just as excited.

"Of course he will," Bayne chuckled. "Your brother is the heir to the throne, so he has to try and familiarise himself to the kingdom's layout."

"Oh. But... the Stormbringer will choose the true heir in the end, right?" he muttered, then realised what he had said and cringed.

Perhaps he shouldn't have said that.

Bayne looked faintly surprised. "Do you want to be the heir, my son?" his father asked, cupping his cheeks.

Storm shrugged, casting his gaze to the ground. "... Maybe?" he replied softly, clenching his fists. "But then again, Brother is older than me, smarter than me, and stronger than me... even though I did beat him last week. He's a prodigy. Him being the heir makes sense," he went on sadly.

He did want to be the heir.

He wanted to be the chosen one.

But Xenor was the heir. He was powerful, intelligent, and was a natural-born leader.

Xenor was bound to be the one chosen by the Stormbringer.

Bayne was silent for a moment. Then, a chortle. Storm blinked at his father, bewildered. "My son, there is also a chance that you might be chosen," Bayne said. "Remember, the Stormbringer only chooses the one who is worthy to be king. Not unworthy."

"What does it mean to be worthy, Father?" Storm asked, befuddled. What was it that made one worthy to be chosen by the Stormbringer?

"Being worthy is not about having strength, intelligence, nor the ability to lead," his father replied, smiling mysteriously. "It is about the heart." He pressed his fist against Storm's chest.

Over his heart.

"It is about the heart," Storm echoed, his voice a mere whisper.

My heart.

"Do not think that you are any lesser than Xenor, my son. Both of you are special, and unique, in your own ways. And in my opinion..." Bayne ruffled Storm's hair, and pressed their foreheads together.

"... you are just as qualified to be king as your brother is."

Storm gasped. Did Bayne really think that he could become the king? He stared into his father's deep blue irises.

And he saw truth.

"Thank you, Father," Storm murmured, and embraced his father once more. "I'll work hard to be worthy, I promise."

Bayne smiled, patting his back. "Well now, we'll be heading out soon, so you should start preparing, shouldn't you?"

"Yes, Father," Storm said, pulling away. Bayne stood, and gave him a wink, before leaving the room.

Storm waited until the door closed, then started bouncing lightly on the spot, pondering on what to wear for the occasion.

Xenor didn't quite see the point of leaving the Palace and looking around Argon.

Bayne had said that he had to know the kingdom, because he was the heir.

Specifically because he was the heir.

He scowled as he adjusted his collar, staring at his attire in his full-length mirror. A high-collared, crisp, black uniform, with matching pants. Everything was perfect, except for his blasted collar. It was rather tight around his neck.

Ridiculous, stupid, a bloody waste of my time— Xenor continued to fume internally, finally managing to loosen his collar and allowing him to breathe properly. He took in a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself and look at the... brighter side of things.

The people'll be able to see how fabulous I am. Me, their future king.

He looked himself over a few more times, ensuring that nothing was out of place.

I'll get to see the kingdom's current state, and find areas for improvement.

Satisfied, he headed over to his four shoe cabinets and flung them open one by one, gazing at the footwear within and contemplating on which pair looked the best with his clothes.

I can show that I am worthy.

He frowned, grumbling as he flung out a couple of shoes, digging deeper into the cabinet.

I will be the best king in Argon's history.

Xenor finally picked out a pair of black boots with gold dots decorating the sides. Perfect. Just as he was about to put them on, there was a knock on his door, and Storm's voice reached his ears.

"Brother?"

"Come in," Xenor called, hopping to his sofa while struggling to put his foot into one of the boots.

The door creaked open, and his little brother entered. "Brothe—" Storm paused abruptly, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "Black? Why in the name of Argon are you dressed in black?"

"Why in the seven hells are you dressed in white?" Xenor shot back, scrunching up his nose in distaste as he looked Storm up and down.

White polo shirt, white trousers, white socks and even white sneakers.

His brother was literally wearing the colour opposite to Xenor's clothes.

White.

Xenor did not like white. There was nothing cool about white. It was blank, plain, and... just white.

"It's going to be hot outside and you want to be in full black?" Storm sputtered incredulously. Xenor sniffed, putting on his other boot and standing up.

"Black is a fashionable colour," he argued. "And besides, it's still morning. The weather wouldn't be that sweltering."

Storm sighed in defeat.

Rolling his eyes, Xenor grumbled and ran his hands through his hair, trying to tame its wildness.

It didn't exactly work. His hair just became even wilder. A scowl, and he gave up.

"Are you excited, Brother?" Storm suddenly asked. Xenor blinked, and scrutinised his little brother.

"Not... very," he answered. "Are you excited?"

"Of course I am!" Storm exclaimed, his blue eyes shining in wonder. "We'll get to see the world!"

"Argon," Xenor corrected, tucking a handkerchief into his back pocket. "We'll get to see Argon, not the world. And to be completely honest, I find it to be a bloody waste of my time."

Storm's brows furrowed together in confusion. "But we can meet people! Not servants, maids, and soldiers, but other children, other families, workers and shop owners— our people! We could even have an adventure!" he protested.

"That is a very naive way of thinking, Brother," Xenor muttered, slathering some hand moisturiser onto his palms. "An adventure is hardly possible. Argon isn't a playground— it is a kingdom. The only reason why Father is allowing us to go out is so that we can know this kingdom— our kingdom— better, not so that we can mingle with the people and find playmates." He rubbed his hands together, applying the moisturiser over his skin.

Storm grimaced. "So, we can't even... make a few friends...?" he said in a small voice.

Xenor paused, in the midst of putting on his cape. "We are princes," he started softly. "We are royalty. The people will see us differently, treat us differently, because we do not live in the same world they do." He gazed into his brother's wistful blue eyes as he finished what he had been doing.

"We do not belong with them, Brother. Get that through your thick skull and stop behaving like a blithering fool."

Storm flinched, and lowered his head, biting his lip.

Xenor strode past him, heading towards the door. "Come, Mother and Father await us," he snapped, and whipped his cape back with a flourish before leaving the room, Storm staring after him dejectedly.

They found their parents waiting for them at the stables.

Bayne raised an eyebrow inquisitively at their attire, particularly at Xenor, but said nothing, merely shrugging his shoulders.

Liss was eyeing their clothing, a frown on her face. "Xenor, sweetheart, your collar's a little lopsided." She went forward, and adjusted the troublesome collar around Xenor's neck. "And your hair! What in tarnation did you do to it? It's ridiculously unruly!"

"I woke up like this," Xenor muttered impassively, dipping his head as he allowed Liss to comb her fingers through his tangled black-white locks.

Storm watched, quite entertained by the sight of their mother fussing over his brother's appearance, when Bayne nudged him, and leaned down to his ear. "Your mother has always been finicky about looks," his father whispered. "One time, I had to leave to meet up with the other kings— and queen— and she held me back for two hours just because my hair wasn't properly combed and my shirt had a small stain on it."

"What happened after that?" Storm asked, rather intrigued by his father's tale.

"I was late for the meeting," Bayne responded, giving him a wry smile. "The other rulers weren't very happy with me when I arrived."

Storm laughed, but was cut off when Liss suddenly rushed over to him. "And Storm, darling, look at you! Your trousers are creased, your collar is also lopsided, and your socks are dropping." His mother quickly dusted his pants, adjusted his collar and pulled up his socks.

"Done. Now, let's go," Liss said, and went over to her mare, Lullaby.

Storm blinked in surprise, and Bayne chuckled. "Come now, my sons. It's time to leave." The king mounted his stallion, Whitestorm, and signalled to the gatekeepers.

Xenor climbed aboard his own stallion, Nightshade, and Storm hurried over to his steed, Thunder.

"Hey there, boy," he greeted the horse, and Thunder grunted, tossing his dark yellow mane. He pulled himself up onto the saddle, quickly settling down, before taking the reins.

The gatekeepers shouted at each other, and opened the gates of the Palace.

Their horses trotted out into the open, and the light of the sun shone on his face, momentarily blinding Storm. He screwed his eyes shut in a grimace, raising his hand to block the late morning rays.

An almost deafening chattering. Noise.

Life.

Storm heard life.

He blinked his eyes open, then gasped, looking around him in starstruck wonder.

All around him stood people. People of different ages, appearances, attire, shape, and sizes. Children ran past him, laughing, their cheeks rosy, their eyes sparkling. He saw adults talking, shop owners yelling out bargains and the best deals. Workers went about building and fixing, tool kit in hand. There were other stores too, selling a variety of objects and trinkets and souvenirs.

Houses lined the Main Street as they slowly moved forward, all the way into the distance. Housewives leaned out the windows of their homes, either hanging the laundry or shouting at the people down below. He saw the silhouette of Argon's gates far, far away, heat waves distorting their figure.

There were blues and greens and yellows and reds. A myriad of different colours painted his surroundings, until it was almost painful to look at.

Birds sang, and occasionally, he saw cats and dogs, prowling the alleyways and running across the cobblestones. A butterfly flew lazily past him, and he stared after it.

Its wings contained a rainbow.

Storm inhaled, breathing in the scent of open air.

Food, sweat, and a whole lot of other smells which he didn't quite know.

Life.

Argon was colourful.

Argon was beautiful.

Argon was dazzling.

I want to see the world.

The sound of claps reached his ears, and Storm realised that the people were cheering.

Cheering for them.

Bayne waved at the crowd, a joyous smile on his face. Liss, too, was smiling and waving, her gaze soft as she shook the hands of a few daring children.

Xenor had drawn himself to his full height, head raised imperiously. Storm thought he saw a flicker of awe flash through his brother's green orbs.

It was all so different from life in the Palace.

The Palace was dull, quiet, and lonely.

Outside, it was bright, vivacious, and filled with boisterous noise.

Storm had never felt so much life.

A few children stared up at him, and he saw his own stupefaction reflected in their eyes. They had never seen him before, after all, and he'd never seen them. He smiled shyly at them, and they gaped, eyes stretching wide.

The din eventually lessened as the people returned to their daily activities, and Bayne turned to Storm and Xenor. "The two of you can go off on your own now," he said. Storm perked up.

"Really?" he gasped, feeling a thrill run up his spine.

"Of course. This is a chance for you to explore, to witness life outside home! But don't wander too far, and please take care of yourselves. You must always be cautious, especially in a foreign environment. Return to the Palace by two." Bayne looked from Xenor to Storm, then back again. "Alright?"

"Yes, Father!" Storm squeaked, while Xenor muttered his agreement.

"Off you go. And remember, take care!" Bayne chuckled, and waved at them, before he and Liss went off. Their mother blew quick kisses at them, smiling.

Storm turned to Xenor, only to realise that his brother had already left, guiding Nightshade down the street and inspecting the nearby stores, a disapproving frown on his face.

He sighed.

Guess I'm on my own.

Navigating through Argon alone seemed rather daunting, considering how massive the kingdom was. He chewed on his lip, glancing around nervously. Thunder whinnied, tilting his head to the side.

"What's wrong, boy?" Storm asked, patting the stallion behind the ear. Thunder grunted, stamping his hoof, and stared at something. He followed Thunder's gaze, and spotted a group of children staring at him.

They were dressed in... rags. Dirt stained their faces, and their arms and legs as well. One of them, a cyan-haired boy, was whispering something to the rest of them.

Storm felt his heart ache for them. They looked so frail, as if they weren't getting enough food to eat. Perhaps he could give them some money to buy a few treats. He dismounted Thunder, and held onto the reins, pulling the horse with him as he approached them.

The group of children stiffened, stepping back.

As he drew closer, they suddenly turned, and darted away into the alleys.

"Hey!" Storm cried out in alarm, and chased after them. Thunder neighed accusingly as he was dragged along.

The children sprinted ahead of him, turning around corners so fast, Storm had to stumble to a stop before running again. "Wait, I just want to talk to you!" he called, panting. Thunder huffed beside him, having been forced into a slow gallop.

The children turned again, but when he reached the corner, they weren't there.

They had just... disappeared.

Storm's brows furrowed in confusion, and he whirled around, trying to figure out where they had gone. People did not just disappear like that. There had to be some sort of explanation behind it.

And that was when he heard it.

The voice of an angel, singing a song.

A song with no words.

Thunder grunted, and nudged him toward the wall. He frowned at his stallion, and strained his ears.

He wanted to know where the voice was coming from.

There was a large, wooden plank leaning on the wall, with some empty crates piled up beside it. He went forward to examine it, and realised that the voice seemed to be coming from it.

Unless...

Storm pulled the plank to the side, and sure enough, there was a gap in the wall. A hole, barely big enough for him to squeeze through.

"Stay here," he told Thunder, and the stallion whinnied, swishing his tail.

Storm slid through the hole, wincing when he accidentally scraped against the jagged cement, and popped out into a rather spacious room.

The singing voice had grown a lot louder, and he was entranced by how melodic it was. He gazed around, seeing a few tattered plushies and mattresses at one corner.

And it was then he saw her.

She sat on a raised platform, her legs swinging, with the most pure white hair he had ever seen. A ragged summer dress hung loosely from her shoulders, with visible sewed-up patches, and she wore thin grey leggings, along with scruffy black flats. Her body seemed fragile, yet so delicate.

Elegant.

A flower the colour of purest snow.

And when he looked into her eyes, he saw the ocean.

Her eyes were a gorgeous turquoise colour, shining, burning, with a passionate fire, as she sang with the voice of a harmonious choir.

Like the ocean sparkling under the sun's rays.

So much beauty.

So much grace.

Storm was rendered speechless as he continued to stare at the girl.

She really looked like an angel.

Maybe she was one.

Her singing reverberated in his ears, and he was dazed by how perfect it was.

Until someone cleared his throat, the singing abruptly stopped, and he was snapped out of his dreamy daze, blinking.

The girl was standing in front of him.

"Hi," she said sweetly, a warm smile on her face. Up close, Storm could see that she actually had rather smooth skin, only that it was smudged with dirt.

"Uh,"  Storm stuttered. "Hi." He was stunned by her sudden appearance, and noticed a large number of children gathered behind her, peering at him. Some looked suspicious, others looked fearful. A few looked intrigued.

One of them was glowering at him, and he realised that it was the cyan-haired boy from earlier.

"May I know who you are?" the girl was saying, tilting her head to the side curiously.

"I'm, uh..." Storm coughed, and swallowed, trying to calm himself.

Why in the name of the Guardian Spirit did he feel like there was a roller coaster in his stomach?

"I'm," he tried again, "Prince Storm Avalon, second son of King Bayne Avalon and Queen Liss Valentine."

Resounding gasps. The girl took a step back, shock written on her face. "F-forgive me for my rudeness, Your Highness!" she stammered, and bowed low before him. The children behind him followed her actions.

"Why are you... bowing?" Storm asked, raising an eyebrow.

The girl stiffened, standing upright again. "Am I not supposed to bow, Your Highness?" she whispered, looking horrified. "I-I apologise if I've offended you!"

Storm grimaced at how afraid she seemed of him. "You didn't offend me, in any way, so there's no need to apologise. And could you drop the formalities? Just call me Storm, please," he sighed, gazing at her.

The girl faltered, looking uncertain. "I-I can't possibly do that, Your Highness," she mumbled. "You're one of the princes of Argon. It'd be rude of me to call you by your name alone."

"We are princes. We are royalty. The people will see us differently, treat us differently, because we do not live in the same world they do."

Storm winced at how right his brother's words were at the moment.

"Well then," he started. The girl froze, keeping her head low. "How about you tell me your name, miss?"

"... Tesarah Starrod, Your Highness," she replied softly, after a moment.

Tesarah.

Storm smiled at her. "That's a beautiful name," he complimented, and she flushed, muttering a 'thank you'. "What are you all doing in this... place, though?"

"This is our home," Tesarah began softly, gazing back at the group of children behind her. One of them clung onto her dress, blinking at him. "We're... orphans. Abandoned by our parents, left to survive on our own. So we banded together, and now we rely on each other, help one another."

Storm's heart twisted, and he felt pity for them. They were all so young. They didn't deserve to suffer.

"How old are you?" he asked the white-haired girl. Tesarah paused, and wrung her fingers together.

"... Seven, Your Highness," she answered, albeit a little reluctantly. Storm was surprised that she was actually the same age as him, then got the feeling that he was prying too much, and decided to lessen the amount of questions he asked.

"You're the oldest?" he asked again, scanning the children. None of them looked older than her.

"Yes. I take care of everyone here." Tesarah nodded, and her gaze softened as she touched the head of one of the children affectionately.

Storm peered behind her, and saw that the children were beginning to relax. Majority of them had gone to continue whatever they had been doing before. The cyan-haired boy now had a doubtful expression on his face.

Tesarah invited him to sit on the raised platform she had been sitting on earlier, and he followed her, as well as a small band of children.

He settled down beside her, and watched as she handed out thin slices of bread to the children for them to eat. "By the way, Tesarah," he said. "What was that song you were singing earlier?"

"Oh!" Tesarah gasped, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, looking embarrassed. "It's... it's a lullaby my mother used to sing to me when I was a toddler. It's the only thing I remember of her..." Her voice trailed off sadly.

"It's a nice song. Your voice is nice too, like an angel's," Storm mused, then realised what he had said. Tesarah was looking at him amusedly. "W-what I meant was, you sing like an angel, not— oh forget it," he groaned.

The white-haired girl giggled, and he gave her an awkward smile.

Bloody hell, the roller coaster in his stomach was insane.

"What about you, Your Highness?" Tesarah asked, tilting her head, a small smile gracing her lips. "How did you end up here?"

Great Guardian Spirit, she's adorable. Wait... what? Storm blinked and ran a hand through his hair awkwardly, fumbling with the words. He made eye contact with the cyan-haired boy, who was munching on his piece of bread.

"I, uh, wanted to talk to them," he started, pointing at the small cluster of children he saw earlier. "But they... sort of ran away from me. So I followed them, and ended up here."

"What did you want to talk to us about, sir?" the cyan-haired boy piped up, eyes narrowed.

"I wanted to ask if you were hungry," Storm answered. The boy seemed stunned by his response, eyes widening.

"... We are. We all are," he muttered, dropping his head. Tesarah stared at them, an unreadable expression on her face.

"I want to help you," Storm said, digging into his pocket. "Here." He took out his wallet, and offered it to Tesarah. The girl gasped in astonishment.

"Your Highness, I can't—" she protested.

"I want you to take it," Storm interrupted, pushing the wallet into her petite hands. "I can always get another one. And besides, you need the money more than I do."

Tesarah still looked uncertain, fiddling with the wallet. Then she relented, heaving a sigh. "... Thank you, Your Highness," she whispered, gratitude in her tone.

"Storm." He smiled warmly at her. "I told you before, call me Storm."

"... Storm," she said thoughtfully, and Storm felt his heart lurch at how smoothly his name flowed from her mouth. Like chocolate.

And he liked chocolate.

Tesarah peered into the wallet, and choked, her eyes bulging in pure shock. "There's more than a thousand rekks in this!" she cried out. Storm chuckled as she pulled out a few notes, staring at them in awe.

"Then use them, and buy yourselves a feast," he said, grinning. Tesarah gazed shyly at him, and dipped her head.

"Thank you again, Storm," she said softly, her beautiful teal eyes glowing tenderly.

Storm glanced at his watch, and realised that it was close to noon. And he wanted to explore the kingdom more.

"I have to leave now," he said, getting off the platform. Tesarah followed him, and her face seemed to fall.

"So soon?" she asked, rubbing her arm.

"I guess. But... let's meet again one day, okay?" Storm gazed at her, the sides of his lips curling upward.

"... Okay," the white-haired girl agreed. She took his hand in hers, squeezing it. "Let's meet again one day, Storm."

Nodding numbly, Storm pulled away and headed over to the hole he came in from. He glanced back at the girl, saw her wave.

He waved back.

And then he was out, Tesarah's warm touch still lingering on his skin.

When Storm arrived back at the Palace, his parents and brother were already there.

"What took you so long to return, little brother?" Xenor snapped, impatience in his voice.

"I got a little lost," Storm admitted, running his hand through his hair sheepishly.

Bayne chuckled. "That's fine, it is your first time outside of the Palace, after all. So, what did the two of you do around the kingdom?" their father asked, ruffling their hair.

"I assessed the standards of the stores on the Main Street and gave my input to the shop owners. And then I shared my opinions with them about their products," Xenor said haughtily, grumbling under his breath as he fixed up his hair.

Bayne seemed rather stunned by his response. "That's... very helpful of you, Xenor. What about you, Storm? What did you do?"

Storm touched his palm, remembering the feeling of Tesarah's fingers on it. He glanced at his brother, who raised a questioning eyebrow at him, then looked back at his father.

And he beamed.

"I made a friend."